Prospernalia's End Feast - Day 5 - OPEN!

"How rude."

Kelmaer's reaction to Ganymede's sudden leaving was muddled at best; not sure whether or not to be offended, but clearly not amused either way. It was clear then by extension that he at least cared, though it might well have been only his pride that felt challenged as she walked away with hair that changed to a colour even blacker than his.

An annoyance began to grow in him at the turn of events, at not getting the answers (or indeed the dance) that he wanted. He turned his back to Ganymede and moved back over to his earlier seat, which had once again been taken by another who sat chatting and eating the same as those around them. "Move," he ordered, a cold rigidness in his voice that went far beyond his earlier order. Whereas before there had only been a feeling of anxiety in he who took Kelmaer's place at the table, there was now a veritable feeling of terror that followed him like a poison fog. Invisible to all, yet creeping into the hearts and the minds of those closest; causing hair to rise on skin, chills to creep down spines, bladders to threaten to weaken and uncontrollable panic to grow.

The individual quickly got out of the seat, while those sat closest seemed stunned into a silence. Kelmear took his place again, then found his own self being shackled and pulled down into the dirt even though no such physical act was taking place; like a quicksand of the mind that disassociated him from the entire feast until he could swear he was alone, sitting in a dark room and sulking with golden eyes that grew darker towards black.

His fingers slowly found their way to his satchel of potions again and brought a light red vial out of it. He unscrewed the lid, took the lips of the glass to his own and then drank from it until a little spilled down his chin. Then he turned the lid shut, placed the potion back besides the others and closed the satchel lid with a click.

Slowly it all came back to him, his rational state of mind, his position in his seat, the feast going on around him, the sky above and the food that smelled so delicious on the table. He took in a deep breath through his nose, then smiled.

Quite an interesting woman. He couldn't help but think that as she approached. But upon the demand he was a little taken aback - not by the command, but as to the why of the situation. He glances down to himself before releasing the clasp at his chest to let the cloak slide off his shoulders.

"Might I ask why?" he inquires, gathering the fabric and slinging it over his arm. Again, his attire was rather plain - simple undershirt and a tunic drawn over it. Trousers, the legs tucked into his boots. Sturdy belt with a drawstring satchel and pouch at the side. "Surely it doesn't offend too much, does it?"

What in the world...? Perhaps she was of some other breed of the world? Or just a very critical woman. He could hardly keep his eyes off of her, and just feeling her eyes scan over him made him subconsciously flex a bit. Granted, many years in his prior field made him a specimen filled out and carved beautifully with contours of modest muscle - but he hadn't been keen on prying women eyes with something of interest for him.

That might change in the near future with his new calling, but at the moment - Ganymede was an odd one.

He found the goblet in his hand after her little inspection, and he couldn't help but watch wordlessly as she disappeared into the crowd. Sadly it was after she vanished amongst the bodies that he managed to reply a "Thank you, m'lady".

The Sparrow sat alone at her table, appearing pretty and delicate in her pale green dress, her light blonde hair artfully gathered on her head with flowers woven in the strands. There was a look of thoughtfulness on her face as she slowly turned her wine glass on the table.

She had one elbow on the surface, her chin in her hand, and the way she leaned forward displayed the nakedness of her shoulders and back -- and the tattoos of wings displayed along her shoulder blades and even further down beneath the corset of her dress.

She had not gone immediately after Draga, because first... first she had things she needed to think about.

Bella might not have caught what, specifically, was passing through Empress Naoki ’s mind, but the focused attention combined with the enchantment on the High Lady’s dress inspired a more detailed turn of thought than merely wondering in the dwarf’s mind. She looked down and away, a deeper red rising to her cheeks again as she hoped desperately that Naoki didn’t know what she was thinking.

“Oh, um… I’m a smith. When… when I was an apprentice, I used to sometimes meet people that came up to the mountain looking for… you know, looking for dwarf-craft. Humans and elves and… well, mostly humans. Not very many, though. It is a long way. And a hard climb. Seemed to me we could sell more if we did it the other way around.”

The slight stammering gradually faded as Bella talks, as did the blush. “My Da wouldn’t hear it. But when I made journeyman… well, I journeyed further than he would have preferred. But they call it that for a reason.” Bella chuckled and looked over to Naoki, then blushed again and looked away. “It isn’t about the money anymore, though. I like it. I like the people. The culture. The sky. The food. The festivals.”

Bella paused a moment to take another bite of the roll before continuing. “So now I have a forge here in Isra. I’m part of the community. Friends and neighbors. Like Genevieve.” Bella gestured over to the dance floor where Lady Genevieve St. James is dancing with Ryden Greyiron .

“Ogres and goblins? Do you have these kind of problems in Isra?” He tilted his head curiously, leaning closer to Elizabeth Finch . It was easy to think of Isra as being completely settled and civilized, here in the feast garden, so near to the Citadel and the massive walls, surrounded by comforts and luxuries. But it was a new city, and much of the surrounding lands were still wild and untamed.

“I think such creatures would be eager to get to the house and the people than to tangle with griffins. You will have reasonable defenses?”

Any sort of double entendre as subtle as that was either missed or ignored by the Daimyo. 'Flirtatious' was not a word that had ever been used to describe him, even in private, when no one else was around to hear it. That's not to say that he was opposed to such things, merely that he did not allow them to come before his duties, a trait consistently passed down his line.

"Or the Tribespeople are killing them? Perhaps, though one would think that such a statement would be made obvious to the City, the body of the messenger left as a warning outside the gate, or his head returned in a package to your very palace." He sipped his water as she did her wine, not wanting to imbibe alcohol in such a situation.

"My waters are most safe, save for the damnable pirates that are found in waters every where. Thus far, the international trade has been left alone, but with such a small sample size I cannot say for certain. Perhaps a mutual visit then? I would love to see the Sakand of the Legends, and in return you visit my proud city? I would visit immediately upon leaving Isra, but I have duties at home that must be dealt with first."

“Yes, of course. But there are fighters, and there are defenses, no? A ranch cannot be a fortress, it is true…” He shook his head, reaching out to pick up his glass and take a sip from it. “But the best battle is the one that never happens. Ogres and goblins are rarely the cleverest. With a bit earthworks, plant some hedges and brambles out there, maybe divert a stream…”

Raoul traced out patterns on the tablecloth with his fingertip as he spoke, despite it not being a sand table, or even a map, and therefore not really indicating anything meaningful. “It will slow a determined foe, and it will redirect a casual raider, off to where the walking is easier, yes? Then they will gave wild goat for dinner, and you will have no trouble.”

There was a bit of a gleam in Raoul’s eye as the conversation turned to matters closer to his expertise. As he had said before, dancing and fancy balls were not exactly common experiences for him. Talking tactics and strategy to an experienced soldier like Elizabeth Finch , on the other hand, he was much more comfortable with, apparently.

With nothing further to do at the festival, her bag of holding a little heavier from the gold coins she'd stolen, the Sparrow made her way out of the Feast. She planned on heading to the roost she'd made and changing before making her way to the dragon's cave as she'd promised she would.

[Exit]